


late nights, car rides

by svdhummus



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Driving, Heartbreak, Late Night Car Rides, M/M, Memories, POV Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Break Up, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:34:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svdhummus/pseuds/svdhummus
Summary: Dream can still hear his laughter in the soft ticks of the turn signal.heavily inspired by driver's license — olivia rodrigo
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	late nights, car rides

**Author's Note:**

> i speedran this shit, but this song's been playing on my mind and i'm a sucker for angst, so. enjoy :)

Dream can still hear his laughter in the soft ticks of the turn signal.

So he only turns it on when there are other cars around, when the ticks are muffled by the rush of their passing tires, because he can’t bear to be alone with those soft, resounding ticks. His soft, resounding laughter. 

The silence in the car haunts him, so he raises the volume up on the radio. It makes his eardrums throb ferociously against the soundwaves, but Dream doesn’t care about his hearing anymore. He hopes they rupture; maybe then George’s voice would stop playing in his dreams, plaguing his nightmares. And despite everything, the ringing in his ears still doesn’t drown out the suffocating silence. 

There are days where he can’t make himself get in the car. The scent of the leather seats reminds him too much of the smell of him. 

And there are days where he gets behind the steering wheel and drives until his eyes swim with the flash of white lines, the passing of streetlights, the stop signs. On days like these, Dream is reckless. He swerves around like a drunkard, like his survival instinct is completely burned out of him. On days like these, Dream feels nothing and everything at once. 

And fuck, Dream wishes he was still in the passenger seat. Because this side of the car is unfamiliar, and cold. This side of the car is meant for a boy with tousled brown hair, eyes that glimmer in the starlight, and a smile that makes Dream bleed gold. It's not meant for him. 

From the passenger seat, Dream could stare at George for as long as he wanted to. He could take in his dewy skin bathed in the sun’s rays, the crinkle in his nose when he giggled, the way he reached over with slender fingers to grasp Dream’s hand in his own. 

Dream remembers how his stomach would twist every time George took his eyes off the road to glance his direction. And he remembers the way George used to look at him, that look of liquid love, the honey that brewed underneath his eyes. Remembers how devastating it was to see that look fade. 

Now Dream sits in the driver’s seat. His gaze never leaves the road, refuses to, because if he turns his head to the right, he’ll see the emptiness beside him. And that breaks him more than anything.

Sometimes Dream sits in empty parking lots and wonders where they went wrong. How their entangled lives fell apart so quickly. Because how could their car rides go from tender touches across the console to agonizing spite and stifling silence? When did hazy summer nights turn into a bitter winter? 

Dream doesn't want to think about the way George’s voice morphed from honeyed nectar to rusted nails, but he does. It's all he thinks about now.

And it sucks, because everything reminds him of George. Dream sees George’s face in every single street sign in their city, because they drove across the entire town together. When Dream rolls down the window, he remembers how the breeze carded through George’s hair and caressed his cheeks like a lover. He can't even go into the Walmart parking lot anymore—not when memories of 3 AM nights and pushing George in empty shopping carts are etched across his eyelids. Dream remembers it. He remembers everything. 

Dream threaded his heartstrings through the pine-scented car freshener that hung on George’s rearview mirror. _He loved that thing,_ Dream remembers. _Just like he loved me._ A part of his heart is still in George’s car, and maybe that’s why his chest trembles so much these days. It shouldn’t hurt this bad, it’s been months, but there’s still the ghost of fingerprints on his hips, there’s still the feeling of lips on his neck. 

Dream misses him so much. Sometimes he wonders if George misses him, too. Sometimes he thinks he would give up his own name to spend another night in George’s car. His brain lags with the reminiscing of their soft kisses washed in pale moonlight, the memory of Dream’s name leaving George’s mouth and the breathless way he would let it escape into the space between them. It’s all static. 

In the hum of the car engine, there lies their gentle whispers. Promises of a love that will last forever, because both of them believed it would. Dream loses himself in the rumble. He gives in to the cascade. 

It’s been months, but Dream still fucking loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on twitter! i love friends :) @sadhvmmus


End file.
